Page 139 of Mafia King of Lies

He’s close.

“I wonder,” Giacomo drawls, his voice dripping with malice, “what Matteo would do if he walked in and found your lifeless body—bullet between your pretty little eyes. His precious wife, gone—just like the first.”

He tilts his head, grinning.

“Or maybe we make it more entertaining. He walks in and finds you on your knees—used up, broken, just another one of my discarded toys. I bet he’ll get a real kick out of that.”

I bite my lip so hard I taste blood. My stomach churns at the brutality in his voice.

“Do you think he’d beg for your life?” He hums as if considering. “No… Matteo Davacalli doesn’t beg. But he does bleed.”

The closet door rips open, unexpectedly. A scream catches in my throat as Giacomo’s cold hand clamps down on my wrist, yanking me from my hiding spot.

I thrash against his grip, but he’s too strong. The fire in my arm flares, a burst of agony shooting through me, and I cry out as he shoves me into the center of the room. Tears blur my vision, my breath coming in short, panicked gasps.

He lifts his gun, pressing the cold barrel to my forehead.

“There you are, amore.”

The front door slams open with a deafening crash.

“Let. Her. Go.”

Matteo.

“Oh good, the guest of honor has finally arrived.” Giacomo cackles. “Now the fun can truly begin.”

Giacomo’s fingers dig into my arm like a vice, his gun pressed so hard against my temple that I swear I can feel the cold metal seep into my skull. My breath is ragged, my vision blurred from pain, fear, and the blood trickling down my arm.

But none of it matters. Not now. Because Matteo is here. There’s still a chance—maybe the only one I have—that I might make it out of this alive.

He stands in the doorway, his gun trained on Giacomo, his body rigid with fury. His chest rises and falls in jagged, controlled breaths, but his eyes—those dark, stormy eyes—are anything but controlled. They’re wild, frantic, and filled with terror.

Not for himself. For me.

There’s a slight hesitation in his stance, a flicker of doubt in his movements. And in that moment, I know—he’s on the back foot.

“Let her go,” Matteo growls, his voice low, deadly. His finger twitches over the trigger. “Now.”

Giacomo chuckles, his grip tightening as he pulls me against his chest like a human shield. “Or what, Davacalli?” He cocks his head mockingly. “You’ll kill me? Go on, then. But you’ll have to shoot through your little wife first.”

Matteo’s jaw clenches, his nostrils flaring. I see the battle in his eyes—the hesitation that tugs at him, pulling him in two different directions. I know what he’s thinking: If he moves too fast, if he takes the shot, I’m gone. I feel the weight of his choice pressing down on him. I see the fear—not for himself, but for me. He’s stuck, caught between saving me and holding on to his humanity. And in that moment, I feel the pain of it all—the agony of loving me and knowing he might lose me forever, no matter what he does.

I swallow hard, the tears spilling over my cheeks as I struggle to hold myself together. I don’t want to die. But the thought gnaws at me, the cold reality that if I do, my baby will die with me. The thought is unbearable, but it’s a truth I can’t escape.

Matteo takes a slow, measured step forward, his gun steady in his grip, but his eyes—his eyes are filled with a storm. “Thisisn’t a game, Giacomo,” he growls, his voice low but heavy with conviction. “All your men are down. I’ve cleared this whole forest. You’re outnumbered. You’re outgunned.”

His words slice through the tension in the room like a blade. He means it. He’s not just threatening anymore—he’s in control. But I can feel the tightrope he’s walking, the delicate balance between keeping me alive and ending Giacomo’s reign.

Giacomo laughs—a low, guttural sound that sends a chill down my spine. “Do you think I fear death, Matteo?” He tilts his head, eyes gleaming with twisted satisfaction. “I didn’t come here to survive. My only purpose is to make sure you lose everything—it’s to ensure that you suffer. That you watch everything you hold dear crumble, piece by piece, until you have nothing left. Nothing but the ruin of your world.”

He drags the barrel of his gun down my cheek, the cold metal sending a shiver through my body. My muscles lock up, bile rising in my throat.

“Take the shot if you must,” Giacomo purrs, his voice oozing with malice. “But know this—you’ll have to shoot through her first. And my finger?” He pauses, a cruel smile playing at the corner of his lips. “It’ll be just as fast in ending her life as yours.”

Matteo shifts ever so slightly—just an inch—but I see it: the war inside him. The agony, the hesitation. I know it as well as I know myself. He won’t risk taking the shot. Not with me in the way.

And Giacomo knows it, too.

---